Damaged
by Black Rose Blue
Summary: James was damaged. He knew that.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm very nervous about this fic, so please be honest. And tell me if I should make it a multi-chap. I have ideas for it, but only if people want it. Also, yes I know that I changed James birthday and eye color. That's just the way I see them. Remus has the hazel eyes, Hermione has Percy's birthday, and Percy has James'.  
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**Written for the Dear Diary challenge at the HPFC.  
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I am drunk. That's the truth. I am drunk and writing into this journal that Mum gave me for my fourteenth birthday but I have never written in it before today. But I guess you already knew that seeing as how you are the journal and are probably very much aware if anyone has written in you or not.

Reading from what I've just written, though it's very blurry, I can tell I'm very drunk. Which is probably why I'm writing in you in the first place.

I feel weird just writing you. I think I should give you a name.

I shall call you Tom. I like that name. It's a nice name. Maybe I'll give my own son that name one day. I don't know. Depends if my wife wants too.

I feel like I should tell you about myself, Tom. Probably should tell you why I'm drunk at least since that's the entire reason why I'm writing in you.

I've already told you that haven't I? Oh, well. I'm drunk. Sue me if I forget some stuff. I forgot to tell you, but I'm a very maudlin drunk, if maudlin means what I think it means. I get all soft and depressed. I'm not like Wormtail, who becomes a smooth talker, or Padfoot, who starts to make out with his pillow, or like Moony, who puts on a lampshade and starts dancing.

My name is James Mordred Potter, but Wormtail, Moony, and Padfoot call me Prongs. I hate my middle name. If I have to give _something_ for my middle name, I always give my middle name as just the initial M. I tell people that it's for Marcus. Or Matthew. Sometimes Max. I don't think anyone's catched on yet. It's probably just a matter of time. I haven't been really subtle. Frankly I don't think Moony is as smart as he thinks he is if he hasn't figured it out yet. I really don't.

I was born September 19, 1959. September 19. It's a nice date, or at least I think so. It seems very soothing. Like nothing bad can ever happen on day. Like if days were blankets, it would be the warmest and fluffiest one that you just sink into and fall asleep instantly. Maybe I'm just biased though. Especially since a lot of people claim the day I was born was the day Hell burst open and let loose it's worse demons. That one was courtesy of Evans.

Doesn't she know that words hurt?I would think she would do after what Snivellus told her that day last May. I suddenly just realized something. Am I a hypocrite? A lot of people think that I'm a hypocrite. I think I might be one. Do you?

I remember something though about my birthdays. I remember being mad at my parents for having me in September. I wanted them to have me in August. That why I could have gone to go to Hogwarts a year earlier. But I guess if I they had, I wouldn't have met Moony, Padfoot, or Wormtail. Well, I probably would have, but I wouldn't have become as good friends with them. I wonder if I would have become better friends with Evans. Who knows? I would be seventeen by now if I was. I remember when I was little, wishing and hoping and praying to be seventeen because I thought it would be so great. I'm not seventeen yet, but I don't think it's going to be all that different than sixteen and sixteen is crap.

I have black hair and blue eyes. My hair's really messy. I like to mess it up even more though than it really is. A lot of girls like it. Evans doesn't though. I wish she would. It would make it make it easier to woo her. I think she likes my eyes though. She's always staring in them. I don't think she would admit it though if she did. She doesn't really like me anyway.

But I like her. Actually, like isn't good enough. I love her. I love her dark red hair, her bright green eyes, her smart mouth, and her smile. I love her brain, her kindness, her fire, and her way of always sticking up for what's right. I love her for all these reasons and so many more that I would need ten more of you Tom to write them all down and those are just the ones in mind right now. If I wrote down more, I would probably remember more.

That's part of the reason of why I'm drunk. I just realized that she doesn't love me and she never will. It's not the only reason though. James Potter doesn't get drunk over just one girl! Well that's not true. I've gotten drunk over her many times before. This time it just isn't the only reason.

Another reason is the fact that my mum and dad have died. Yup. They're dead. There was an attack. Not a Death Eater attack. Someone just broke into their house and killed them. Just killed them. They didn't even get a chance to defend themselves.

And now I don't have any family left, Tom. My Aunt Dorea died during the summer of Dragon Pox, my Uncle Charlus died two years ago of an accident with Potions, which probably why I started hating the class more than I did before, and their son, Harry, my cousin obviously, who's twelve years older than me and he died fighting as an Auror last year. It was his first mission, but he fought and dead like a veteran, and before Aunt Dorea died, she gave me the medal they had given her for his bravery. She said that I was just as brave as he was, and she knew it. She just wanted to make sure I did. I love her for saying it. But I'm not.

I'm just crazy. And I mean it. I was diagnosed with bipolar. If you don't know what bipolar is Tom, then I'll tell you. I bet you don't though. You're just a journal so how could you? But maybe you do. How should I know? I'm not a journal.

But I'm going off on a tangent. Bipolar means that I basically feel one of two things. I either feel very sad and depressed, which is most of the time, or I feel very hyper and almost crazy, which is some of the time. It's hard to explain really and I don't fully understand it myself. I just take my weekly potion like a good boy, never tell anyone who doesn't have to know, and let myself get off the hook easy with teachers when they just think it's acting up again. I don't think they even really know how it works. But like I said, I don't either.

I'm damaged though. That's all you need to know Tom. All the Marauder's are. Padfoot, whose real name is Sirius Orion Black. His parents hit him and hurt him. I've never found proof, no one has, but we've all known. I want him to leave their house. He hasn't though. Moony, whose real name is Remus John Lupin. He's a werewolf. He's probably the least damaged of us if you can belive it. Wormtail, whose real name is Peter Benjamin Pettigrew, his parents don't hurt him like Padfoot's, but they just belittle him constantly. It's uncomfortable to watch.

I just looked at the clock. It's 12:01. Did you know what today, or I guess yesterday was? September 18. Today is September 19. I'm seventeen. I don't feel different. Nothing feels better.

I'm going to go to sleep. I just don't feel very good. I'm not feeling very drunk anymore.

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**Review if you like.**


	2. Chapter 2

Tom, I have the _worst_ hangover known to man. My head's pounding like it did that one time where Moony and I got mad at Padfoot and Wormtail, so we decided to go Spain and we had a tequila drinking contest. We left a note informing Padfoot and Wormtail of this plan, but Moony's mum found it instead and she found us so fast that I bugged Moony why hadn't he gotten that ability? Then I shut up when I realized that that meant he could find us whenever we played a prank that he didn't approve of. Moony didn't think of that, of which I'm glad. He always so annoying when he thinks of stuff like that.

I also realized something just now. You know how some people can do stuff when they're drunk that they could never do in a million years sober? Well mine is penmanship. My writing sober is horrible. Half the time, people can't tell what I write. I'm actually the only person who has ever attended Hogwarts that when I hand something in clearly written by another student, teacher's _thank_ me for taking the initiative to save their eyesight and their time. Ironically, I don't cheat. Padfoot and Wormtail cheat from me, but I don't cheat.

Yet when, when I'm pissed, my writing is wonderful. If it weren't for the fact that I have vague memories of writing those words and the stuff written is only stuff that I could have known, I would think that it was someone who had studied calligraphy for years. I'm actually that good. If I write every single entry in this journal sober after this, the only one you would be able to read is the first.

I wouldn't have to have anyone copy my work if I stayed drunk while I wrote it.

I can arrange being drunk all the time.

But moving to less depressing topic's, I'm sitting at my favorite place in the entire castle, the Astronomy Tower. It's the level right under, and I don't think anyone else knows about it. I don't mean to confuse you Tom, but here's what I mean. The second to last level under the Tower connects to the Tower, but also this one, and this one doesn't connect to the Tower. I found this one when I was running from Flich in second year and it was so odd. It was clear that no one had been here in years. Everything was _covered_ in dust and cobwebs, but the strangest thing was that some things were carefully organized and some things were laying around like half finished projects, like someone had meant to come back, but had just forgotten to. I just wonder who it was.

I only have one clue, that for knowing about this corridor, cleaning it up, I found it. A set of initials that went P.N.B.

I don't know who they belong to or if they were the last person to be here, but regardless. I only cleaned and dusted the areas that needed it, and left everything else untouched. Well, almost everything.

I couldn't resist putting J.M.P. right under P.N.B.

But that's it. I swear.

I suppose that you want to learn more about me though Tom.

Well, details that I left out last night are. . . . Well I'm tall. About 6'2". Taller than Sirius (5'9") and Peter (5'2"). Shorter than Mooney (6'5"). Same height as Snivellus. I almost got Sorted into Ravenclaw, though the Hat did seriously consider Slytherin, but I would horrible if I had gone to all that trouble to get Sirius in Gryffindor and then didn't even get in myself, so I beg, the Hat thought about Hufflepuff for a second before I got into Gryffindor. I think I would have made a good Ravenclaw though. The Hat thought that obviously. That's actually the House my mum wanted me to be. Gryffindor was the House my father wanted me to be in. Dad won out.

I have to go now. It's almost time to meet Moony to study in the library.


End file.
